


Mistletoe Mix-up

by Mossyrock



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Aziraphale has an adorable misunderstanding, First Kiss, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:48:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21924670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossyrock/pseuds/Mossyrock
Summary: There's a new game that's just been invented. It's called 'mistletoe' and Aziraphale is excited to play it. Except it turns out it's not played exactly the way he thought it was.Holiday fluff for our favourite ineffable idiots.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 64





	Mistletoe Mix-up

The servants of the Pembroke Manor were a jolly bunch at the best of times, but as the holidays approached, along with the end of the century, they had become even more so. They all walked around with smiles on their faces and Aziraphale thrived on the love he felt radiating from them all. 

Aziraphale, who was acting as one of the butlers of the household, arrived at the Christmas party a little late. Everyone was already well into their third or fourth drinks and uproarious laughter greeted him at the kitchen door. As he entered, they cheered and pressed some Christmas pudding and mulled wine into his hands before he could even say a word. 

“Thank you, Mary,” He thanked the elderly head housekeeper, “Merry Christmas.” 

Her answering giggle and rosy cheeks were a vast departure from her usual strictly professional demeanour. It seemed even the most stern of characters weren’t immune from the holiday spirit. 

Taking a bite of the delicious and decadent pudding, he looked around the room, searching for a particularly familiar face.

“Mr Fell!” 

One of the groundskeeper’s children had wound themselves around his left leg. She was grinning up at him, with a pronounced gap between her front teeth, which gave her a rather adorable lisp. She was only 6, but she already loved to read. Aziraphale had purchased a nice first edition book for her for Christmas, for ‘Santa’ to leave. It was worth more than his yearly salary at this job, but he liked to spoil little children whenever he had the chance. 

“Hello, Elizabeth. Are you looking forward to Christmas?”

Putting down his food and drink on the closest table, he bent down to pick her up. No sooner than he had, but his leg was being grabbed by her younger brother, William. 

“Yeth, Mr Fell. I want to get a cat for Christmath,” She told him very seriously. 

“Liz’beth!” William interrupted. 

“Yeth, Willy?” She answered, leaning away from Aziraphale to peer down at her brother. 

Aziraphale gave a quick miracle to prevent her toppling to the floor. 

“Tell Mr Fell ‘bout the mittletwoe!” He exclaimed. 

Elizabeth gave a dramatic gasp and began excitedly wriggling in Aziraphale’s arms. If she hadn’t been secured by his miracle, she would’ve fallen for sure. He was lucky to keep his grip on her, even with the miracle. 

“There’th a new game to play, Mr Fell! Will you play it with me?” She looked up him with her big brown eyes, begging him to say yes. As if there was any fear of that. 

“I would love to!” He smiled at the children’s endless energy and enthusiasm. 

Elizabeth began pointing at the doorway to the servant quarters. He was confused for a second before he saw that there was a sprig of some type of berry plant above the door. 

“What’s this?” He hoisted her up so she could reach it, but she didn’t pull it down or otherwise touch it like he’d expected.

“It’th the mithletoe!” 

“And what do we do with it?”

“Mummy thayth that if two people are under it, they have to hug,” She carefully explained, clearly repeating the words her mother, one of the other housekeepers, had told her. 

Aziraphale took a step, dragging Willy with them, until they were directly under the mistletoe. He bent to scoop Willy up and holding him in the crook of his other arm. They were heavier than they seemed, but he carefully balanced them with another miracle.

Both kids threw their arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. He felt the love emanating from them. 

“Was that the game?” He asked them. 

He got two identical smiles and nods in return. 

“Wait a second,” Their mother, Victoria, stopped him before he could move out of the doorway, “You need to pick one of the berries. The mistletoe only works until the berries run out.”

Elizabeth reached up and picked one of the berries. Only one berry remained. 

“Alright, my little ones. It’s bedtime,” Her pronouncement was met with twin groans, but she merely shook her head fondly. “Say good night to Mr Fell.” 

Their eyes turned to him, begging for him to intercede and plead for them to stay up a little longer.

“It’s time to do as your mother says. Otherwise Father Christmas might not come.” 

They looked at him with disappointment as he handed them off to Victoria. She gave him a grateful look. 

He secretly blessed them with a wonderful nights rest with the sweetest of dreams. He couldn’t wait to see the joy on their faces when they found their Christmas stockings filled with gifts. 

“Good night, Elizabeth. Good night, William.” He waved as they were led to their rooms, down the corridor through the mistletoe adorned door. 

He looked around again, scouring the room for the shockingly red hair he'd come to know so well. But he knew that if Crowley were there, he’d have been by his side already. 

_Speak of the devil_ , he thought, as his demonic colleague sauntered into the room. He was posing as a driver for the family, as Aziraphale was posing as a butler. It was one of the few assignments they’d worked together since the implementation of the arrangement. And it wasn’t even a particularly big or important one. 

But Aziraphale was glad to be spending some time with him. It had been too long. 

Crowley instantly made his way over to him, making a smile appear on Aziraphale’s face. He was so predictable, as hard as he tried to be mysterious and dangerous. Unlike when Aziraphale entered, nobody cheered or crowded around Crowley. He gave off an intimidating air that made him unapproachable.

Aziraphale knew better though. He knew full well how nice the demon was and that while it didn’t seem like it, he wanted to make friends. Aziraphale was immeasurably glad he’d introduced himself on top of that wall so many millennia ago. 

“Angel,” He greeted. 

“Merry Christmas,” Aziraphale replied. 

Crowley just grunted. But Aziraphale wasn’t going to let it dampen his mood. He picked up his drink again and had a sip. It was a tasty wine, considering the servants never got the same quality as the masters. It seemed like they’d gone all out for the festivities. 

Crowley was looking around the room, searching for something, or someone.

“You just missed them, my dear” Aziraphale told him. At his blank stare, Aziraphale elaborated, “The children just went to bed.” 

“Oh,” He replied, not disputing that he'd been looking for them. 

Aziraphale had worked out about 2000B.C. that Crowley had a soft spot for children. It was endearing and not something Aziraphale had expected of a demon, but then, Crowley continued to surprise him, even millennia later. Existence with Crowley was never boring, that was for sure. In fact, Crowley had made his existence infinitely brighter – though Aziraphale would never dare admit it. 

They stood in silence for a moment. Aziraphale cast his mind around for something to talk about that wouldn’t confuse or concern the humans surrounding them. 

“The children taught me a wonderful new game,” He blurted, before he remembered exactly what the game was and that he and Crowley had mostly respected each other’s personal space for this long. If they played this silly game it would mean crossing that line. 

“Yeah? What's the game?”

“It’s about that plant above the door there.” He pointed up above the door they were still standing beside.. 

Crowley glanced up at it rather unimpressed.

“Mistletoe. What are you supposed to do with it?” 

Aziraphale was impressed with his horticultural knowledge and expertise. Another surprise he hadn't expected. 

“Well, you see, if you stand under it, you have to hug somebody.” 

Crowley stared at him. He had his glasses on, as usual, but Aziraphale could just sense the unamused look in them. 

“And… That’s a game?” He drawled mockingly. 

Aziraphale humphed. It wasn’t like he was the one who’d made the game up. 

“And then you pluck one of the berries off. You only have to do it until all the berries are gone.”

“You don’t eat the berries though, do you?”

“No, why?”

“They’re poisonous.”

Of course, that wouldn’t kill a celestial being, just temporarily discorporate them. Still, Aziraphale had been inhabiting his current form since the beginning of his time on Earth and he didn’t want to have to break another one in. He’d become comfortable in this one. Perhaps even too comfortable. 

“Well, then definitely don’t eat them,” Aziraphale answered, somewhat sassily. 

Crowley huffed out a single wry laugh. Aziraphale did love to make the ‘serious’, ‘brooding' and ‘evil' demon laugh. It warmed his cockles. 

“Who came up with this ‘game’?”

The air quotes were heavily implied, but Aziraphale heard them. 

“I’m not sure. But Elizabeth and William taught me.”

Crowley’s face lit up the barest hint at the mention of the children, though he clearly tried to suppress it. 

“Did you have a go, angel?” 

“I did. Both of the children gave me a hug.” He gave a smug smile knowing that Crowley would be jealous. 

“Why don’t you two have a go?” Victoria asked them, having come back from putting the children to bed and overhearing their conversation. She had a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. 

Aziraphale started to protest when Crowley simply shrugged and said “Why not?” like it wasn’t a big deal. 

Well, if Crowley was going to be blasé about it, so would Aziraphale. 

“Of course. After you.” Aziraphale held out a guiding hand to Crowley, who positioned himself beneath the sprig. Aziraphale awkwardly shuffled after him, squeezing himself into the doorway with him, again placing his almost untouched beverage on the table. The pudding was still on the table, smelling wonderful. He looked at it wistfully, before the clearing of a throat had him looking at the demon almost pressed against him head to toe. From this close, he could smell Crowley's intoxicating scent and see every perfect pore on his corporation. His eyes travelled his face and tried to memorise each feature. 

Crowley’s slightly too long and serpentine tongue flicked out to wet his lips and Aziraphale felt himself lean slightly closer, as if to follow it. He blushed as he pressed his back against the door jamb, trying to get some much needed distance between them. 

“Well, what are you waiting for, gentlemen?” Victoria interrupted his thoughts – not that any of them had been coherent.

Aziraphale turned to glare at her as sternly as he could muster, when he noticed that the whole staff had stopped to watch them. His blush deepened. He hesitantly brought his arms up and slowly, so as not to spook him, placed them around Crowley’s chest. They went around his chest so far he could cross his arms and touch his elbows. It was one thing to see how skinny Crowley was, but entirely another to feel it. He felt Crowley’s arms come around him and pull him in closer. They hugged for only a moment before they both backed away. 

“A hug was for the children’s game,” Mary admonished with another giggle, words slurring together. 

Aziraphale miracled her drink into a non-alcoholic, but otherwise identical liquid. Before he could ask what she meant, Victoria piped up again.

“For the adults, the game is a kiss,” She gave a sly grin, as if it was her intention all along to lure them under the mistletoe. 

Crowley looked at him, panicked. Aziraphale wasn’t going to force him to go through with it, of course. That would be wrong and selfish. 

“Come on you two,” Someone yelled from the back of the crowd. A general cheer erupted. 

“Did you know about this, angel?” Crowley whispered so only Aziraphale could hear. 

“Of course not,” He hissed back. “The kids told me it was a hugging game. How was I supposed to know?”

“Hurry up,” Victoria prodded. 

“It’s bad luck if you don’t do it,” The same drunken voice from before yelled. 

‘Bad luck’ wasn’t something that happened to angels or demons. They were the ones who created what humans called luck, destiny or fate based on the Great Plan. But as they were pretending to be human, they needed to pretend it mattered. Aziraphale arranged his face into something appropriately scared of the prospect of this supposed curse, before turning back to Crowley. 

He wanted to tell him they could still choose not to do it. But Aziraphale saw something in Crowley’s face that told him that he wouldn’t object. And Aziraphale was weak when it came to the demon. He shouldn’t be. He knew he shouldn’t. What would Heaven say if they knew? But it was hard not to be infatuated with him when Crowley kept being unbearably sweet and handsome, always swooping in to save him from whatever sticky situation he'd gotten himself into, like a knight in shining armour. Or black armour. Aziraphale had liked that look on the demon. But then, he liked every look the demon had ever adopted.

Crowley flinched almost imperceptibly as Aziraphale leaned in, but he seemed to catch himself and then he was leaning in too. 

Their lips barely touched. It was like the barest suggestion of a kiss. 

But it was perfect. It was everything Aziraphale had ever imagined. Crowley’s lips were soft, as if he had put on some type of moisturizing lip balm, but they didn’t taste of anything other than Crowley. They were gentle as they pressed against Aziraphale’s and while he wanted to lean in further, take him back into his arms and never let him go, he couldn’t. 

He pulled away after what must have been only a fraction if a second, but had felt like a million human lifetimes. 

Crowley swayed backwards, as if he could hardly stand, and steadied himself by gripping the door frame behind him. They barely breathed, until Victoria gave a joyful giggle. 

“Now you have to pluck the berry,” She reminded them, “So that you don’t get bad luck.” 

Aziraphale stopped himself from audibly scoffing at the fact that his ‘luck’ had just given him a taste of everything he wanted. He looked to Crowley, who had turned away.

Crowley abruptly reached up to pluck a berry, before stalking off.

Aziraphale watched him go, knowing they’d never speak of this moment again. 

* * *

Aziraphale was wrong. Over 165 years later, they spoke of that first kiss, while trading innumerable kisses. Crowley confessed that he’d thought about that moment ever since. Aziraphale was relieved to know he hadn’t been the only one affected by it.

He was also touched and surprised when Crowley had produced the berry from a box in his otherwise empty wardrobe. 

That berry then caused an avalanche of kisses to be piled on the confused but pleased demon. It seemed that each berry didn’t just hold the power for one kiss. 

Every Christmas thereafter, Aziraphale hung a sprig of mistletoe above their bedroom door. He didn’t need it to steal a kiss from his beloved demon anymore, but tradition was tradition and he’d decided to say ‘screw it' to the Ineffable Plan and make his own luck. 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays to anyone celebrating anything. 
> 
> If you're celebrating with others, I hope they aren't giving you a hard time for sneaking off to read fanfic.


End file.
